


Preach

by Naughty_Yorick



Series: The Alphabet Game [17]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Church of the Eternal Fire, Feral Jaskier | Dandelion, Gen, Religious Cults, Witcher bigotry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 07:07:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27347122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Naughty_Yorick/pseuds/Naughty_Yorick
Summary: A man dressed in long white robes and a red hood turned the corner in front of them, preaching as he walked. His hands and the cuffs of his robes were blackened with ash. Ash, Geralt knew, and blood.In Novigrad, a run-in with a Priest of the Eternal Fire goes poorly for everyone involved.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: The Alphabet Game [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1983026
Comments: 22
Kudos: 171





	Preach

**Author's Note:**

> I challenged myself to write a fic for every letter of the alphabet. I took each letter, plugged it into a random word generator and wrote a fic based on whichever word it gave me. This letter is "P", and the word is "preach", and it features the Church of the Eternal Fire from TW3. See more of my Alphabet Challenge on my tumblr, [here!](https://a-kind-of-merry-war.tumblr.com/post/632799468062916608/alphabet-game-master-post)

Geralt could smell the tell-tale scent of fire before they even turned the corner. His hand shot out automatically, gripping Jaskier’s arm.

“Don’t,” he said, simply.

Jaskier blinked. “What?”

“Let’s go. We’ll get to the docks from the other direction, without going through the square.”

“Geralt, what are you talki-”

“The eternal fire protects us!”

_Shit_. A man dressed in long white robes and a red hood turned the corner in front of them, preaching as he walked. His hands and the cuffs of his robes were blackened with ash. Ash, Geralt knew, and blood. 

Jaskier’s heartbeat quickened. Even _he_ recognised the dress of the Church of the Eternal Fire - even if he hadn’t had as many run-ins with them as Geralt had. The priest spotted them both - spotted Geralt’s grip on Jaskier’s arm. He frowned. His fingers curled into fists.

“A witcher,” he spat, “in Novigrad, of all places. I thought your kind had died out.”

Geralt scowled. “You’ll need a few more pyres for that, I’m afraid.”

The priest stepped closer, his eyes now lingering on Jaskier. 

“Unhand him, Witcher,” he said, slowly. “Before I fetch the guards.”

Geralt gripped tighter. Jaskier didn’t move. The priest changed his approach.

“Come, son,” he said to Jaskier, “You don’t have to go with this… this mutant. Let me help you.”

Jaskier stared at him, then glanced at Geralt. He tugged his arm away: Geralt let him. He watched as Jaskier approached the priest, slowly and silently, wondering what he was doing. Surely Jaskier wasn’t _truly_ so keen to escape him?

“That’s it, my child,” said the priest, extending a hand. “You’re safe with us.”

When Jaskier was within touching distance, he stopped, his head tilted to one side. And then - quicker than Geralt thought possible - his fist shot out, nailing the priest square between the eyes, sending him stumbling backwards. Jaskier spun on his heel, eyes sparkling.

“Run!” He shouted, laughing, “Before the others come!”

Geralt ran, leaving the groaning priest and the ashy, bloody smell of bonfires far behind.


End file.
